The rain was relentless. It beat against the ruined street, mixing with blood and mud, and still couldn’t wash the guilt from your skin.

You didn’t hear Ghost approach...you felt him. Like the chill before a killing shot.

“Gaz and Turner are dead,” he said, voice like broken glass.

You didn’t respond.

“They died screaming. I heard it. While you were cradling some fucking child like this was a fairy tale.”

You turned, slow, hollowed out. “He was going to die.”

“And now two brothers are rotting in pieces because of you," his voice colder than ice.

Silence.

“You disobeyed direct orders. You left your flank open. You exposed the hostage. Everything we were there to do—you compromised it all.”

Your voice came out hoarse. “I couldn’t watch that kid die with his mother screaming for him.”

“You think that’s new?” His voice cracked, but not from emotion. From fury.

“I’ve watched children die in their mothers’ arms. I’ve stepped over them and kept walking. Because that’s the fucking job!”

Your stomach turned. But he wasn’t done.

“You’re not a soldier anymore. You’re a weakness. A liability.”

You swallowed hard. “So that’s it? You’re cutting me out?”

He stepped closer, mask inches from your face, his voice cold. “You think I’d trust you to cover my six again? I’d sooner walk into fire alone.”

You felt something in you unravel.

“What we had—” you started, desperate.

“What we almost had,” he spat. “It was a mistake. One I won’t make again.”

You blinked, and the world blurred with more than just rain.

“You want me gone?” you whispered.

“I want you out of 141. I want your face out of my sight. You don’t belong beside me.”

There was no fight left. Only silence. And shame.

Ghost turned without another word, his shadow swallowing what was left of the light.

And you stood there—soaked in rain, blood, and the ruin of everything you thought you were.